


A Long-Term Strategy

by valda



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Flying Lesson, Gen, Han and Leia are just people, Snoke Starts When They're Young, The Battle for Ben, Ugh, Young Ben Solo, they were Unprepared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supreme Leader Snoke knows that it's a long road to winning Ben Solo's loyalty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bonding Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben has just turned five, and Han decides the time is right to give him his first piloting lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Written in response to an anonymous Tumblr prompt:](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/149932997243/would-you-consider-writing-a-han-solo-young-ben) "Would you consider writing a Han Solo-Young Ben ficlet?"

“It’s an older design,” Han said, and then he was irritated at himself for sounding apologetic. He frowned. Ben blinked at him, eyes big and round and dark, just like his mother’s, and seemed to shrink a little. “She’s a good ship,” Han barreled on, forcing the smile back onto his face. “She’s gotten me out of lots of scrapes. Did you know I won her from your uncle Lando in a game of sabacc?”

Ben said nothing, but then, Ben never said much. He didn’t nod or shake his head either, though. He just sat there staring at Han, face blank, blinking slowly.

Han drew a breath and reached out to run a hand over the mess of curls on his son’s head. Dark hair, like his eyes. He wondered where in the family tree that hair had come from. Darker even than his mother’s.

“So, where you’d see a lot of condensing in more modern ships, the _Falcon_ ’s got kind of…granular controls,” Han pushed on, moving his hand from Ben’s head to scratch at his own. “Uh, that means you can control more, you’re not leaving as much up to the ship’s computer. But that’s also why the panel’s so big, and you can’t reach everything from the pilot’s seat.”

Ben’s eyes were still on him, but now they seemed unfocused, and he was smiling. Han never knew if he was actually paying attention.

“Uh. So, you’re kinda young, but your uncle Luke learned to fly around your age, and he’s got the Force same as you and your mom. And Uncle Luke and Mom are both good pilots. I am too,” Han added hastily, because it was true, even if he didn’t have the Force. “So it runs in the family, Ben, and I’m sure you’ll be great. Your mom took some convincing, but she finally said it was okay to take you up for a spin, see how you like it. I’ll be your co-pilot.”

Briefly, Han thought of Chewie. How long had it been now? Ben had just turned five. So…nearly five years.

He shook his head. Chewie was where he needed to be, and so was Han.

Han pushed those thoughts away and gave Ben the biggest grin he could muster. He’d been waiting for this day since Leia first realized she was pregnant, after all. It was going to be great. “So whaddya say, Ben? You ready to fly the _Millennium Falcon_?”

Ben’s eyes refocused on him, and his smile slipped away. His face didn’t go blank again, exactly, but Han couldn’t place the emotion he was seeing. “Okay,” Ben said, tremulous.

~

It had been a long time.

Han couldn’t help himself; he let out a whoop as he blasted out of the atmosphere, throwing the _Falcon_ into a completely nonessential spiral. The stars spun dizzyingly outside the canopy, and he grinned at the disconnect between what he was seeing and what his body was feeling. Then he glanced at Ben, strapped in next to him in the co-pilot’s chair, and was gratified to see that his son was smiling again, eyes darting from the viewport to the control panel to the sensor readouts to Han’s hands as they worked levers and slapped at switches. There had been a moment, when he’d first taken off from the spaceport, that Han had suddenly worried: what if Ben wasn’t a natural at flying after all? What if he had no space legs? What if it made him sick?

But Ben was fine. He was more than fine. He looked eager.

Han swept the _Falcon_ upward, away from the planet. “We’ll get out to clear space first, kid,” he said, “and then I’ll let you take over!”

Perhaps he took a little longer than necessary weaving through the planetary defense satellites. Perhaps he…meandered. If you could call hurtling at breakneck speed—twisting and turning and spinning as though there were TIE fighters hot on his tail, laser cannons spitting deadly green bolts—meandering.

Ben laughed with delight.

Finally the _Falcon_ shot free of the defensive array. Han set the autopilot on cruise. “Okay, kid,” he said, unstrapping and rising from his seat, “it’s your turn.”

Ben suddenly seemed timid, the light fading from his face. He picked at his shoulder straps and stared into his lap.

“Aw, come on, kid,” Han said, crouching next to Ben and ruffling his hair again. “You’ll do fine. It’s your first time. Nobody’s perfect their first time. Don’t worry about making mistakes. Just have fun.”

Ben looked up at him—his eyes were so big, and a little watery, and his lower lip trembled—but he nodded. Then he set to work undoing the clasps of his harness.

“Atta boy,” Han said. “Let’s put her through her paces.”

Han rarely sat in the co-pilot’s seat. He was struck again by Chewie’s absence as he settled in. “I bet your uncle Chewie would love to be here for this,” he said. “Let’s give him a call later.”

“Okay,” Ben said quietly, sounding distracted. He climbed into the pilot’s seat, pulling the shoulder straps around and locking the harness in place, then let out a breath.

“All right,” Han said, ready to explain where to disengage the autopilot—but Ben was already doing it, leaning forward and cutting it off as though he’d done it a thousand times before. And then his hands were on the yoke and he was punching the accelerator and Han couldn’t contain a yelp as the _Falcon_ sprang smoothly forward into space.

Ben let out a whoop of his own as the _Falcon_ , Han’s baby, responded instantly to his touch, diving away from its original path in a spiral. It was similar to the one Han had indulged in earlier, only tighter, faster. Han stared as Ben pulled out of the dive, swung back toward the planet. “Wait—” he said, but maybe Ben couldn’t hear him over the roar of the engines because they were accelerating, speeding back toward the minefield of defensive satellites. “Ben—” Han tried again, but they were already there—

And Ben was shooting through them, whipping around them, bobbing up and down and around and jinking back and forth.

Most pilots subconsciously needed a direction to call “down,” and they’d tend to correct their flight paths to maintain that illusion. New pilots were especially prone to the habit, and Han had been expecting to gently correct it in Ben.

But Ben didn’t seem to have the inclination at all. He didn’t take the wider paths, the ones that would have kept the _Falcon_ mostly in the same orientation. His movements were sharp and his acceleration was perfect and his line through the satellites was…it was, Han realized, the fastest line. The best possible line. Leia would say it was a dangerous line, and maybe it was, but Ben’s face was not pinched in concentration. His hands were not white-knuckled on the yoke. He was smiling—he was _grinning_ , and that was so surprising Han’s mouth fell open. There was something very familiar about his grin, the way it tugged one side of his mouth higher than the other.

There was nothing familiar about the way Ben was flying. This was not Ben copying what he’d seen Han doing moments before, following demonstrated maneuvers by rote. This was Ben Organa-Solo himself. It was Ben’s piloting, Ben’s skill, Ben’s talent. This was what Ben could do his first time flying, at five years old.

Han gaped as Ben gestured toward the co-pilot’s side of the console and a lever swung down automatically. You needed a co-pilot to fly the _Millennium Falcon_ , that’s just the way things were.

Except Ben didn’t need a co-pilot.

Ben didn’t need Han at all.

At that moment, Ben flicked his wide eyes over to Han. Han realized his mouth was still hanging open, and he snapped it shut. He felt like he should say something—praise Ben, maybe, give some sort of feedback—but no words would come. Ben turned his attention fully back to the controls. He swung the _Falcon_ in a twisting arc that took them out of the satellite grid toward the emptiness of space once more. Then he reached forward almost awkwardly and activated the autopilot. He was no longer smiling.

Han swallowed against his dry throat.

“Was—was that okay?” Ben said, his voice quiet. He was staring into his lap again.

“Yeah,” Han said. His voice came out hard. Rough. He coughed a bit to clear his throat and tried again. “Yeah,” he said. “That was okay.” He ran a hand back through his hair and closed his eyes. “I mean. That was great, kid. That was really great.”

There was a pause, and then Ben said softly, inexplicably, “No.”

“What?” Han asked.

Ben jumped, as if he hadn’t expected Han to hear him. “Nothing,” he said, hugging his elbows. He still hadn’t looked up from his lap, and his eyes had gone unfocused again.

Han gazed at him for a moment. “Okay,” he said finally, helplessly. “Uh. Ready to go home?”

Ben nodded.

It had all gone wrong. Ben was upset and Han had no idea why. There was no reason to be upset. Ben had flown just fine. Better than fine. Perfectly, his first time out.

Darth Vader, it was said, had been an exceptional pilot.

Han slapped the panel to reroute control to the co-pilot’s seat. “Okay,” he said again. This time, he didn’t look at Ben at all. “Let’s go home.”


	2. Choosing Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ben and Han return from Ben's first piloting lesson, Leia realizes there's more going on than simple father/son miscommunication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Written for a Tumblr prompt.](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/149960710973/may-i-request-something-with-leia-and-bby-ben) fauxtalian asked: May I request something with leia and bby Ben? Perhaps a tender something or other. Whatever you feel like writing :3

She’d known something was wrong long before their return. Leia stretched out with her feelings, sending thoughts of comfort to her son, summoning him to her. Finally, after a measure of time that was far too long for her liking, Han shuffled Ben through the front door and into the living room of their little apartment. Leia rose from her chair. “How was it?” she asked, affecting a casual air.

Unease was rolling off Ben in waves. Leia knelt, gesturing him forward and pulling him into her arms. Patting his back soothingly, she looked over his shoulder at Han and raised an eyebrow. Han grimaced, shrugged, and glanced toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Leia rolled her eyes. “Go,” she mouthed, and Han went.

Leia waited until she heard the door to the master bedroom slide closed before she spoke again. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, petting Ben’s hair.

“Mommy,” Ben said, and his voice was so soft she could hardly hear him, “does Daddy hate me?”

“No!” Leia pulled Ben closer, horrified. “Of course not! Your father loves you, Ben, just as much as I do.”

“But I do everything wrong.”

Leia stroked Ben’s hair, running her hand down the back of his head over and over. “No, no, baby,” she said. “You don’t do everything wrong. You’re learning, and that’s okay. It’s okay to make mistakes.”

“But,” Ben said, his voice quavering, “I didn’t.”

Now Leia wished she hadn’t dismissed Han so easily. What had happened? “Ben,” she said, “would you like to try sharing thoughts with me?”

It was something they did sometimes, when Ben was having trouble verbalizing. Leia had never attempted it with Luke, wasn’t sure it was something she would even be able to do with anyone beyond her son—the child she’d shared herself with fully, who’d lived inside her and been as much a part of her as anything could be. It was their special connection.

Ben pressed the side of his face against Leia’s. She felt the gentle brush of lashes across her cheek as he closed his eyes. “No,” he said.

Leia’s hand stilled in his hair. “Why not?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle.

“Private,” Ben said. Then he added softly, “Later.”

“Okay,” Leia said, suddenly strongly aware of her own heartbeat. Something was wrong here, too. Ben had turned Leia’s offer down before, of course, and Leia understood that he was his own person and needed space sometimes, but he’d never said no when he was upset. She’d always thought that was because he wanted her to know what he was feeling, trusted that she would understand. If he didn’t want that now…

“What happened?” she asked, fighting the worry down.

“Daddy wasn’t happy,” Ben said.

“Daddy wasn’t happy with what?”

“Me.”

A frustrated sigh escaped her before she could stop it. Leia resumed petting Ben’s hair, focusing on the repetitive motion, trying to make it meditative. Be calm, she told herself. At peace, like Luke always said. “He wasn’t unhappy when you left,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level. “What happened?”

Ben’s small body stiffened in her arms, and he dropped his chin to her shoulder. “I dunno.”

“Did you fly the _Falcon_?” Leia asked. She concentrated on her breathing. In, out, in, out. Slow. Calm.

“Yes,” Ben said. Leia felt him longing to say something more; the feeling rippled at the edge of her consciousness. She bit her tongue, forcing her emotions below as placid a patina as she could muster, and waited, holding him. “It was fun,” Ben said finally.

Leia let out a breath and squeezed Ben into a hug. “Good,” she said.

“But,” Ben said, and then he pressed his lips into Leia’s shoulder.

“But Daddy wasn’t happy?”

“Yeah,” Ben mumbled, his voice muffled by the satin material of Leia’s blouse.

“Did something happen to the _Falcon_?”

“No.”

Had Ben flown just fine, but not good enough for Han? Leia’s lips compressed into a thin line. If that nerf-herder had said anything of the sort to Ben—

“ _No_ ,” Ben said, frustrated, and he shoved himself out of Leia’s arms.

“Then _what_?” Leia said, her voice rising with frustration of her own. She straightened back up to her feet, thrust her hands onto her hips. “What _is_ it, Ben?”

“Daddy’s mad because I can fly better than he can,” Ben cried, small fingers clenching into fists. “It’s not _my_ fault I can fly better. Daddy’s jealous. He hates me.”

“Where in the galaxy did you get _that_ idea?” Leia asked, bewildered. “Your father isn’t jealous of you, and he doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes he _does_!”

“No, he does _not_!”

“Hey,” Han said suddenly from the hallway, “what’s goin’ on?”

Ben suddenly looked terrified. He backed away from Han and made as if to duck behind Leia. Then he stopped, lip trembling, looked up into her face, and stayed where he was.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered, but it didn’t sound like he believed the words.

Leia’s heart froze in her chest. “No,” she said, and she dropped to her knees, her hands going to Ben’s shoulders. “No,” she said again, locking eyes with him. “Ben, no.”

Ben stared at her, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding on the verge of tears.

“It’s not your fault, Ben,” Leia said. She squeezed his shoulders. “Just hang on.” And then, for the first time without his permission, she entered his mind.

She’d known what she would find, but she was unprepared for the sense of dread that flooded her upon contact. “Out,” she gritted through her teeth, forcing her thoughts toward the roiling dark. “Out!” Vaguely, she was aware of Han retreating down the hallway, as though she’d been talking to him. But that was fine. He couldn’t do anything about this. Why make him feel helpless?

“Ben,” Leia said, “Snoke is not your friend. He whispers lies to you. He isn’t trying to help you. I will never lie to you, Ben. I love you. Come back to me. Let me in. Don’t let him in.”

“But,” Ben said, and now he was sobbing. “He knows me,” he whispered.

“No one knows you better than I do,” Leia said firmly. “No one cares about you more than I do.”

“Mommy,” Ben said, his voice choked, and then the blackness in his mind recoiled, dissipated.

Leia pulled Ben back to her chest and held him tight. “Good, you’re so good, you’re so strong and brave. You did it.” Ben shook in her arms, his tears dampening her blouse. “You did it,” Leia said again, clutching him against herself. “You did it.”

~

The location of Luke’s Jedi school was a secret. It was an enormous undertaking to bring the peacekeeping class back to a galaxy once purged of it, and it would be so easy to destroy the unsteady foundation Luke had built. So easy to attack a single school, wipe out the galaxy’s best chance for peace and justice.

So Leia had no direct line of communication with her brother. She could only send recorded holos through a series of relays that would eventually bring the messages to him, and then wait days or even weeks for a response.

She wasted no time sending a new message. “He’s already begun,” she said without preamble. “He’s already begun his campaign for Ben’s heart. I never expected the vision to come true so soon. He was here. He was _in Ben’s mind_. Ben and I drove him out, but Luke, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep doing it, to fight him every time. I’m—” Leia closed her eyes, let out a long breath. “I’m afraid, Luke. I’m terrified. It’s earlier than I wanted, but…please come for Ben. Start his training now. You can fight better than I can. And Ben needs to be able to defend himself.”

Yes. Ben needed to be able to defend himself. He needed that more than Leia needed to hold her son in her arms, to see him each day, to kiss his forehead and cheeks and tell him she loved him, to link their fingers and walk together through the gardens, to let him weave elaborate braids into her hair. He needed that more than Leia needed the life the three of them had built here together—the life they’d all known was an illusion, a fiction that couldn’t last.

“Hey,” Han said, when the shuttle was no longer visible in the night sky. When their son was gone. “Uh. Lando’s put me in touch with some guys. Seems like people think that since I’m famous,” and at that he gave her a self-deprecating grin, “and since I know pretty much all the trade routes in the galaxy like the back of my hand, I should start a shipping business. Legit shipping. It seems…” Han glanced away, gazing up to the spot in the sky where Luke’s shuttle had disappeared. “Seems like a good idea to me,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “But I’d, uh, have to travel a lot. More than I have been. And I’d keep racing, too, for the publicity…”

“You’re not asking my permission,” Leia said, amused despite how tired she felt, how completely wrung out. It was only fitting that Han would leave too, that their little family would be scattered to the far reaches of known space. It was practically her legacy.

“I’ll come back whenever I can,” Han said. “Whenever you need me.”

“I know,” Leia said.

“I love you,” Han said.

“I know that too.”

That night she recorded her first holo for Ben. It might arrive at the school before he did. All the better, she thought.

“Your father and I love you very much, Ben,” she said. “And we’re going to miss you. So, so much.

"Be sure to listen to your uncle Luke. He’s the last of the Jedi. He’s going to restore the Jedi Knights to the galaxy. And I know you’ll be able to help him.

"I’m so proud of you, Ben. You’re strong and good. You’re the most important person to me in the entire universe. I love you.” She smiled through the sudden ache in her chest. Then she clicked off the holorecorder, and the apartment went deathly silent.

Leia was halfway down the hall to her bedroom before she changed her mind. She went to Ben’s room instead, bare now, his things gone with him to the Jedi school.

Leia didn’t bother turning on the lights. She settled herself on Ben’s empty bed and sat alone in the darkness.


End file.
